Utensil Trouble

“The world was my oyster but I used the wrong fork."- Oscar Wilde



You all know by now if you've read this more than once that I'm a little neurotic, so you shouldn't be surprised by how agitated I became over this. Last night was Enrichment Meeting at church. It was an altogether lovely night, the highlight of which was someone else's having made my dinner; however, while eating said dinner I discovered something that has kept me worried ever since. The utensils for last night's meal were clear plastic forks and knives. I happily picked up a set and dug in. About half way into a bite of chicken I glance at my fork and realize that where it used to have 4 tines, it now only had 3. So, carefully I chew the piece of chicken I had just put in my mouth, hoping to find the piece of my fork, but it wasn't in there. I swallow and then start, casually I hope, to look for it. It's not on, under, or anywhere in the vicinity of my plate. It's not in any of my other food, in my lap, on the floor beside me, or anywhere else I can see for that matter. Then I start to worry that I might already have swallowed it. I thought that was improbable, but I could think of nothing else once I had that thought. So I hold up my fork and tell everyone else at the table what had happened. They all seem somewhat amused and then assure me that I probably couldn't have swallowed it without noticing. I go with that for a few minutes, finish my food, and try to listen to the speaker, BUT a nagging little voice in my head keeps telling me, "That's gonna hurt coming out!" Nervously I clean off my fork with my napkin and start considering what could happen if it were working its way though my digestive tract. It could tear or puncture something, get stuck, cause pain or bleeding, etc. . . .The person sitting beside me (who probably thought I was kidding) looked up at one point, and I held up my now cleaned fork and said, "Do you think I should take this to the emergency room with me when I go?" She just laughed. And I really wanted to be just playing around, and I kind of was, but I still kept thinking about it. I came home (I exercised all my will power to leave the broken fork behind!) later and told Ryan. He laughed at me. I said fine, but when you have to take me in to the hospital because of the pain, tell them to look really hard because it was clear plastic and it'll be hard to find. He's not buying it. Happily, after a full day's worth of digestion, I have no fork tine drama to report. I think I might be in the clear afterall. Let's see. . . what else can I worry about?